


[Enter Here]

by BlueSkyMournings



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - No Hale Fire, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Childhood Friends, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-24
Updated: 2016-03-24
Packaged: 2018-05-27 09:11:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,417
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6278449
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BlueSkyMournings/pseuds/BlueSkyMournings
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In Your Eyes AU<br/>The AU where you can see the world through your Soulmates eyes.</p>
            </blockquote>





	[Enter Here]

"Have you ever seen anything so beautiful?"

Stiles kicked around his dangling legs from where he sat perched, waiting for a reply, adding a wistful sigh in for good measure. He was met with a pensive silence. 

The "beautiful" in question was the view from the second highest point visitors were allowed to access on the Eiffel Tower. The second highest, because even though you could probably see higher on the highest available point, it was a smaller area of availability, meaning the greater chance of running into someone-it had enough room for a single restroom and an exhibit of what the room it housed looked like back in the day, but instead of being free to form, you were basically trapped by glass. No, the encasement of the wires and steel were far better, and it provided more of a free-range. Good thing, too, because it was really hard to fake a cell-phone conversation where there was probably no cell phone reception.

Which means the fact that the night sky and all its glory was the backdrop to this scenic picture was helpful because Derek could find shadows to stand in where he wouldn't draw attention to himself. It wasn't that cases like these didn't happen, it's just that they were so rare they were considered a social taboo. Cave-dwelling plebeians, Stiles' often scoffed.

Anyway, together they looked out into a Paris night, onto what felt like an endlessly vast city, aglow as it was from every dwelling, monument and tourist trap that kept their lights on to guide those braving the chilly night air. Derek continued looked for shadows to be cast in from where he was lit up indirectly by the light of the Eiffel Tower that surrounded him, as he moved around to take in the full effect of the view offered to him. It's true you could see more in the daylight, but there was something to be said about the way the surrounding lights made Derek feel like he was looking down from the window of a plane. Besides, it was romantic as hell and Derek had had the privilege to see the view in the daylight enough times by now that this was refreshing, even if he hadn't been on a date.

"No, I haven't. But only because I haven't seen your face yet." Came his quiet response, as he carefully stepped around the few people still willing to be up in the air when the sun wasn't around to help heat them. Derek could imagine that his boyfriend's nose would be scrunched, if past verbal reactions to his cheesy shit were anything to go by.

"D. Dats oh deesy. Quihit." 

Now Derek scrunched his nose. "What?"

Stiles cleared his mouth with a large gulp at sat his sandwich down beside him." Dorry. Hold on!" As fast as he could without making a mess, he grabbed his water bottle sitting faithfully beside him and washed down the remnants sticking to the roof of his mouth, then re-secured the lid of his water bottle, before wiping his mouth with his sleeve. "I said, 'D. Thats so cheesy. Quit it.' What I refrained from saying, was that if you could actually see me, you wouldn't be saying that."

Derek chose to ignore the self-deprecation and let out a huff. "You're so old fashioned for wanting to wait until we can see each other in person, if that even happens. What kind of sandwich are you eating, anyway?"

"Well we wouldn't look as good as we would in person, mirrors are horrible! They add ten pounds, I swear! Its not just cameras. And what if we didn't like what we saw? Can you imagine how lonely your life would be if you didnt like what you saw and you wouldn't let me bother you anymore?" Stiles stopped his hands, which had been pushing his water bottle between them and sat it on his lap, grateful that the bottle was room temperature and would freeze him through his pants. "And, provolone." He added as an afterthought. 

"Mmm, provolone!" Derek chuckled, "tasty!"

"You're damn right it is!" Stiles reached to his side, and felt around before he picked up aforementioned sandwich, and took a smaller bite. "Sorry that I'm eating and you're not. My lunch break is only an hour and-" 

"-you won't function properly at work on an empty stomach. I know, it's okay. You're perfect. Stop worrying.

"MUSHY. Now turn around and go back over to the Parc du Champs de Mars, I want to stare at that area again."

Derek felt his lips curl up. He rolled his eyes and shook his head and pretended he wasn't so fond. "Sir yes sir."

\\(O)-(O)/ [(O)-(O)]

It's not that it's always been so frequent, but S has been a constant in his life for as long as Derek can remember. It's not even that Derek remembers when it started happening-S is a few years younger than Derek, so Derek's birth wasn't the genesis. But it came on so gradually that by the time he something big enough happened that Derek stopped writing it off as freak occurrences, he had no idea how long they'd been there, he was already in the the thick of things and S's intrusion in his life just made sense. Bright colors. The flash of a mother's eyes, or the curl in her hair. A quick tussle in a sandbox. The pain that came when a child version of S got hurt while their connection happened to be open. It was something that should have freaked him out, but, rare as these connections were, they were common enough that they were integrated into lesson plans at age 5-through children's books mostly. The integration of S was so slow, seamless. S being in his life had always felt natural.

He wasn't always a welcomed intrusion, though, like he is now, regardless of how wrong it would have felt without him. Derek would know-one time, before either of the boys had any idea of control, he pissed S off and S disappeared for nearly a year. In the beginning of their tentative friendship, going months without substantial contact wasn't unusual, but they tended to check in with quick glimpses every once in a while. S disappeared so abruptly that day, and stayed away for so long without even so much as a flicker in their bond, Derek freaked out. Bad. Those were dark days. For nearly a year, he got nothing from S and every attempt on his part to share his life was met with a wall, a firm "NO." Never again. Never. S grew on Derek like a fungus, and he's going to stay that way, dammit.

The point is, S had always been there, and the time that he wasn't there, because he wasn't born yet, is a mix of not worth remembering and Derek was too young to have many clear memories anyway. A fungus. An annoying, precious fungus. 

It's a thing that almost wasn't. 

 

\\(O)-(O)/ [(O)-(O)]

 

Derek made his way to the other side of the Eiffel, but he was so focused on showing his date the view that he, ironically, didn't see where was going, and bumped into a mass that went "oof".

Immediately, Derek took to steps back and apologized, pasting on a polite smile before his eyes took the girl he had bumped into. She, too, had a polite smile, but it ranged farther on the flirty side than he felt safe with. And it wasn't her fault, but she had blonde hair, and blonde women made both he and S edgy. But mostly himself.

"Don't worry about it." She nearly giggled, and Derek nearly grimaced. As he made to move around her, she stepped nearly in his path. "You here alone?" She tried.

"Uh..... Yeah. I am." He didn't really feel like smiling anymore, so he let it slip off, but he tried to keep his face from his resting scowl. It felt like a betrayal to S, but they had both agreed the best course of action was to be subtle. There were just as many people who believed in soul connections and supported them as there were people who thought they were loonies and should be locked up for schizophrenia at least, but either side of the spectrum seemed to be filled with extremists and all in all it was just easier not to announce it to the world. It was safer that way.

"Well," her grin grew more seductive, "me too. Technically I'm with my friend, but Janice won't mind. We could go to a cafe, get some coffee? Or something?"

Or something, indeed. Derek nearly winced when he heard a huff and felt a prickle over his bond. 

"I don't even know your name." He returned. Some women were scary with how willing they were to throw themselves at him.

"Janice." Her voice got excited and her grin grew wider, like a cat that ate a canary. Only, no.

"Sorry Janice. I have a man back home waiting for me. You have a pleasant night with your friend." With a tight-lipped, slightly uncomfortable polite smile and a nod, he walked around her and didn't let out a breath until he was safely away from her on the other side of the tower. 

He heard a heavy sigh. "D, man, you must share your secret of the ladies! How do they all flock to you! Show me your ways and make my life easier! I like the chicks!" Derek knew he was just trying to lighten the mood. No matter how secure their relationship, it stung a little when your boyfriend got hit on during a date. Especially when they were so far apart. And had never met in person. Especially because of Derek's past.

"Ha ha. Very funny." Derek took his turn to sigh and rest his arms on the guardrail. "I know neither of us like it when I get hit on but-"

"You look like a Greek God. It's okay, you can't help it. Besides, you're in Paris for business and you snuck away just because you know how much I wanted to visit the Eiffel Tower one day. Best. Boyfriend. Ever. 10/10 would date again."

"They'll never compete with you."

"MUSH. So much mush tonight. Oh my god! You're not going to propose to me are you?" He heard a mock-gasp, and then a startled sound as S no doubt almost lost his balance from whatever he was sitting on. It caused him to huff out a laugh as he thanked every deity that S couldn't see how hard he blushed. His whole face was no doubt as deep a color as a red wheelbarrow. 

He cleared his throat. "Not tonight, no. Maybe not ever. Please tell me you're sitting somewhere where you won't be maimed or killed if you fall." 

Stiles let out a guilty laugh and released his death-lock grip on the stone ledge he was sitting on. "Ppffffffff. Of course not. I knew I'd be looking through your eyes for our date, obviously." But he liked his stone ledge. It was a nice stone ledge. In the shade of a nice tall oak tree, stone ledge. Stiles sobered up from his awkward energy. "No, but seriously. I won't let anything happen to me, not when there's a proposal in my future. Can't get rid of me that easy, Bub!"

Derek smiled.

\\(O)-(O)/ [(O)-(O)] 

It's a thing that almost wasn't, you see. Stiles knows that D was really grumpy about the whole thing. It's a fact of Stiles' life that along with all his other problems-ADD, clumsiness, a runaway mouth, a fondness for snarking-he'd had the worst timing known to man even when he wasn't trying. He may or may not, but also may, have opened the link to D (hey! control is hard for any child) during a few flirting sessions, a very important test or two, and one memorable time, during a lacrosse game which D swears up and down he still a scar from, right across his elbow, from a nasty tackle while he was quite literally blind sided. The way he hears it, it was okay at first when it was quick 5-second flashes that made D seem like he was just daydreaming. But then Stiles grew older and his....sessions...grew longer, cause "more trouble than you were worth". 

It's not like Stiles was very fond of sharing each others' lives, either. One time, he was playing a very important game with his best friend Scott, in a sand box, and he was winning too! And then BAM. The connection distracted him and Scott claimed a victory, and his five year old self still feels bummed. Another time, he was competing against Scott to see who could fly highest on the swings, and the next thing he knows he's looking at some ugly blonde with a row of snaggle (perfect) teeth and hideous mud (deep blue) color eyes. And then BAM! Stiles did go flying-straight down. And he really does have a scar above his eyebrow, thankfully tiny. 

Tiny as it was, it was big enough for his parents to take notice, and then of course they had to find out about Stiles' little secret, and then all the teachers had to know in case it interfered with school, which leaked to the whole school, because of course it did, and Stiles had to suffer through looks. (They went away eventually.)

It kind of revved up the animosity between them though, at least for a while. Stiles did not appreciate.

But, "us" must have been the one good thing to come out of his mother's death, because the two of them were hell bent on ignoring each other and the intrusive flashes-and then 8 year old Stiles is hunched over his mothers grave, bawling his heart out, and crying til he went hoarse. And then he felt warm, safe. Like someone was taking his soul and telling it he'd be all right, safe, not alone. It was like a hot water compress warming his torso and working its way out to his limbs. It centered in his heart and it confused him because he felt like he was going to be okay, but his mom was dead so how could he feel like he was going to be okay?

Wen he got home, he locked himself away from all the strangers and neighbors and adult people milling away downstairs, eating food and mingling to honor his moms memory, and he remembers he was sitting against his wall, the bed protecting him from the view of his door, looking down at his thumbs as he twiddled them morosely together, quiet for absolutely the first and last time in his life, hands in his lap, knees up, no moisture left for tears, no energy left to think....

And then he's looking up at an unfamiliar ceiling, and at fan that just keeps spinning, a little lazily, and he hears a voice, he's never heard a voice before. But it's a kids and its male and its kind of deep-most of all it's soothing, it's a comfort. And for a really long time he has no idea what it's saying, it's just noise, a lullaby, hypnotizing Stiles as he watches the fan go round and around and around. When the words start forming, he realizes what's being said is anything under the moon, no rhyme or reason. But he distinctly remembers "I don't even know if you can hear me" followed by a huff and "Cora's face when!-", "you can't ever see the stars here." and "math is totally bogus."

Somewhere in there, Stiles fell asleep. When he woke up, in his dads arms for the short journey to his bed, the voice was gone and so was his presence, but the next time it opened, and It asked him how he was doing, he said "I'm okay" in his quiet, still-not-okay voice, his bondmate said "Well let me tell you-" and told Stiles the stupidest story in the world, and eventually all his plot holes cajoled Stiles into pointing out the errors of his ways, opening him up little by little, and a tentative friendship between the two, began.

\\(O)-(O)/ [(O)-(O)] 

After a period of quiet contentment just staring out at the view together, Stiles reluctantly had to leave. Being an adult sucked, sometimes. And being an adult meant Stiles had a job. So he wolfed down the remainder of his provolone, chugged enough water to wash it down, but not enough to cause him to need to pee during class, balled up his trash, carefully hopped down from his perch, donated his waste to the trashcan, and trekked toward his building to face his class. Then he freaked out, ran back so he could pick up his briefcase, and continued to class at a more hurried pace. Oops.

It's not like Stiles disliked his job. He was a professor of ho story at Berkeley. Okay, so a few of the students were hard to deal with, a couple liked to pretend they knew history better than he did, and most of them stared at him with bored faces 50 minutes a day, three days a week, but there were a few who loved what they were learning! American History! Not Stiles' forte, but he had to pay his dues before he could teach what he really wanted-History of werewolves in pop culture. It would be worth it in the end.

Besides, research was the only thing that could focus Stiles and history was chalk full of research. If he could do just research for the rest of his life, he'd die a happy man but he had to make a living. The students just came with the territory, but they weren't so bad. Of course, he had to end his date with D on account of class starting, but he supposed he couldn't hold that against his students. Technically. 

His classes this semester weren't his worst though. The previous semester, this asshole (in Stiles' mind, but never aloud) kid named Whittemore questioned him at every turn ranging from inane questions to incorrectly correcting Stiles. If it wasn't for all the venting D had to listen to, he would have strangled that kids neck. Hell, D probably would have strangled his neck FOR him, but he had no idea where Stiles worked. 

In fact, the only thing Stiles wasn't looking forward to was the AHS in a couple weeks time at the end of February-it was a national "society" that forced Stiles to pay a shit-ton of money to belong to, and once a year all the historians attended the American Historical Society and greased hands and faked smiles and cheer, while low-key trying to one up each other. This year it was in New York City, next year it'd be in Denver. Joy. But, the Statue of Liberty was on his bucket list so at least there was that.

Stiles rubbed his hand over face before he pulled open the door to his classroom. Not looking at a single person until he set down his briefcase (read: glorified laptop case; black bag; not an actual stuffy old man briefcase) he rested his hands on his teacher table and took in the-surprising adequate-amount of students who decided to show up. 

"Alright, class. Today's everybody's favorite day! We are gonna start with the rap video I found about George Washington and then..."

 \\(O)-(O)/ [(O)-(O)] 

It had been Stiles who had decided to keep himself and D so in the dark. At first, it had been a childish love of mystery and superhero identities. It wasn't until Stiles grew older and the charm of that wore of that he realized he didn't want to know D's name. If he knew his name, he could track him down and vise versa. It may seem silly, but Stiles didn't want to force a meeting. What if they met before they were ready and things didn't work out? Better for fate, luck, destiny, whatever, to decide. 

And because D has a soft spot for Stiles, he acquiesced. No identifying names, no locations, no emails-and later, no phone numbers. Not even a mirror image. Just the contact through the bond they shared, through each others eyes, their souls. It's not like they were strangers, Stiles literally saw what D saw, went through a bit of what D went through with him, and vise versa. They could talk whenever they wanted. Stiles knew the names of D's siblings, and D knew the names of Stiles' friends. His enemies too. But no last names that could be googled and traced back. No particular obvious locations, just general ones. 

Stiles didn't want to meet, except by chance. Maybe it was because that's how it happened for his parents. Maybe it's because his best friends mom and dad found each other through information and forced a meet, and that....didn't turn out so well. Really, his experience is 50/50 (because who trusts the textbook stories they feed you in high school, where you can't prove the people are real. No thank you) so he was going to follow in the path of the relationship that worked out, thankyouverymuch. He might be a little superstitious. Scott disagreed with him on this, and he knew D wasn't totally satisfied, but it was his choice and D only wanted him happy. But D was literally a part of him, one he couldn't function without, and he didn't want to lose him.

He'd almost seriously lost him once already.

 \\(O)-(O)/ [(O)-(O)] 

As soon as the connection cut out, Derek felt empty. He was alone, again. It wasn't that whatever bonded him to S was always there, it was that he could always tap into it. Sometimes, when he was feeling really alone in the world, when it caused enough pain that S could register it, the bond would open up no matter what S was doing, and he'd let Derek shadow him through whatever he was doing, until one of them fell asleep. 

So Derek knows a lot about the early Presidents, Indian Massacres, and how horrible the grammar of some college students is. But he's also learned how to cook lasagne, the secret ingredient to S's grandmothers chocolate oat nut cookies, how long and dexterous The skillful hands of S are. So he'll never really be alone. He just wishes for more. And as he looks out onto the cold nightlight version of Paris, and doesn't completely register the fact that he's reached down worry the box in his pocket, until the action is already happening. 

Peace and quiet, this tranquil feeling he gets alone enough to hear himself think, it's rare these days, it feels like. So he takes a few more seconds to breathe it in and enjoy and and then pushes off the railing to face reality. 

He chooses to walk down the stairs instead of take the lift, but all too soon he's standing with his hands in his pockets, under the Eiffel Tower, just staring out, and a figure is making its way toward him, confident and relaxed. 

"So, how'd it go?" says his assistant, wink wink nudge nudge implied.

Derek can help the smile, and he doesn't want to. He lets himself be happy, for S' sake. Enjoy him, the only person Derek would abandon his job for. "It went." He said coyly.

"Mhm." Kali was good with the eyebrows. S would say her eyebrow game was strong, if he knew her.

Derek barked out a laugh, butterflies in his chest. "No, it was really good. We spent an hour just staring out at Paris. He ate a provolone, I was a sap, he joked about me proposing." Derek looked down as he scuffled his shoe into the ground, and then shrugged and looked back up at Kali.

"Does he know? About" Kali's eyes flickered down and his right hand, srill in his pants pocket, automatically clasped around the box, as if to protect it.

"No. Not yet. Timing." Derek tried to smile.

"That boy is the best thing that ever happened to you." Her smile was playful, but her eyes were serious.

"I know."

Kali was trusted. Derek had gone through a few assistants before her, each one more horrible than the last. They were snotty, latter climbing assholes who would kiss Derek's until Derek either got sick of them or he slipped up and they found out about S and proceeded to make his life hell. Okay, that last one was just Matt Daehler, and he taunted Derek and insulted S subtly enough that it went under the radar to most people, but Derek would be damned if he wouldn't defend S at the very least. That had been a very messy firing. Which led to a couple months of Derek assisting himself, which led to his older sister hiring someone for him, which sent into his life Kali. She was a Godsend. And her parents were soulmates, too, which made Derek's life easier when it came to S because she'd help him with rendezvous, or field soulmate sensitive material. She protected him. She knew when to pull him out of his head. She was an expert scheduler and fixer. S would say, 4 for you Kali. You go Kali!

Like now, Kali turns on her heel, expecting Derek to follow, and starts talking at a brisk, professional pace. "Alright, so at 10 you have drinks with Charlene to discuss the Chicago project, and at 11:15 you're expected at the bar with those men from Denver. That's mostly just to run hands though, less for business. Tomorrow you have four meetings back to back, I will have a quick lunch prepared for you because you will have about 10 minutes to eat it. Oh! Laura wants to sit in on your proposal, to cheer you on, and your creepy Uncle Peter wants to set up a meeting when you get back stateside, to discuss how this conference went and also to be creepy."

Derek caught up to Kali's long strides and sighed, but restrained from pulling his hair because he didn't have time to fix it before his late night socializing. 

"Sounds normal." 

"Cheer up!" Kali punched him lightly on the shoulder. "Two more days and you can go back to hiding in your office."

Derek chuckled, "I can't wait."

 \\(O)-(O)/ [(O)-(O)] 

It wasn't a planned romance thing, and not everyone who could see through someone else's life were meant to be more than friends. Derek and S were good as friends. They comforted each other, they supported each other, they argued almost as much as they laughed and they pushed each other. They were good. For years, things were perfect the way they were. They could lean on each other, they could trust each other, they could vent without fear of judgement. There wasn't a need for anything more, at least that's what Derek thought. They both dated, and they both went through a sexual identity crisis, and Derek thought, huh, maybe they were-and then shoved it out of his mind. He had what he needed, and he thought S did too. It was like slow-going best friendship. They didn't really start talking almost every day until S reached his senior year of high school. Before that it was every few weeks before they had a chat, and then every couple weeks, but always with those quick check ins. But that last year of high school is when they became nearly inseparable, like best friends should be.

And okay, S kind of dated. And it wasn't really until college, because he spent years fixating on a red head and then his high school years ignored. It wasn't until the start of college (which Derek had completed two years prior) that S really hit his groove-with guys. From what he could tell, from what he heard, it was all casual. Derek pretty much serial dated, married to his work and his friendship with Stiles, without committing himself, and that's where it nearly fell apart.

Kate was a mistake wrapped in blonde silk locks, $500 dresses, and heels that could puncture human skin. She was a viper, and she was deadly. And she wasn't Derek's mistake, that honor went to his parents. His mistake was going along with It. 

It, being an arranged marriage. In the 21st Century. It was either marry Kate or be cut out of the family, whose fortune Derek still lived off of. The reason: because serial daring was tacky and unbecoming, and they all knew S was a platonic bondmate, or else maybe they wouldn't have. maybe things would be different. He should have chosen to do without, but he didn't. And he lost his family anyway, in the end. He almost lost S. 

Beautiful, honest S who had tried so hard to get through to him, but Derek hadn't listened. 

Hadn't listened when S begged to know her full name, "my dads a cop. At least let me vet her for you if she's going to have a place in our life.

"It's Kate Argent, S. And, no, she's not."

"But you're marrying her."

"I am."

"Then she's going to have a place in our life!" 

"No, she's going to have a place in MY life."

"What-"

Didn't listen to the fact that if he didn't feel safe enough to trust her with the soul bond, she should have been history long before she stepped foot in his mother's house.

"Derek?"

"-Not now."

**

"Derek I m-"

"I'm busy."

***

"Derek, what do you think? Should I do it? Derek?"

Didn't listen to his own damn soulmate, as he wrongly pushed him away for the right reasons. To protect him. To keep him safe. To keep S all to himself. So, mostly justified reasons. Derek didn't want to get caught by Kate lost in S' eyes, or to subject S to his dates with Kate. There was only so many times he could pretend to be on the phone before the frequency became a dead giveaway. It was all for nothing. Kate found out in the end.

Only, she'd known since the beginning. When the cat was out of the bag, she'd openly mocked him, nearly two years later, S pretty much gone from his life by Derek's own doing. She'd mocked him about that, too. 

And he'd had enough. One day she'd sneered, and his hollow heart broke. Her taunts followed him into his room, where he'd barely though to lock the door with shaky hands before he turned him back to it with a thump and used it to slide down. "It was so easy" she had said. "Of course I'm in it for the money" she had cackled. "Oh, honey." She'd sneered.

Her maniacal laughter followed her out the door, and he brought his hands up to his face and pressed the heels of his palms to his eyes.

He'd cried, not because he felt humiliated, which he did. But because He cried, and S did not come, maybe his bond was so weakened, he didn't even feel it. He cried because he'd lost the most precious thing in his life to that Viper. 

And, oh. The epiphany.

S. S was his life. He was every part of Derek, the good and the bad, and the just there, like a gallbladder. He'd seen it all, they'd held each other through it all, they were weathered rocks, eroded but still there, together. No, they were the same weathered rock, and the sand around them was everything they'd endured, together. Because they didn't have to touch skin or see each others flesh to validate their relationship. They knew everything each other was. Derek was missing so much of himself, that'd he'd cut out himself with a messy jagged knife.

Oh.

So he shut his eyes, and focused really, and sent all the love he could down the line. With his next deep inhale, he made a decision. Shaky legs carried him to his suitcases, heart thudding as he packed away each clothing item, each book he'd read time and again, each thing he couldn't leave behind and easily replace, like a toothbrush. He didn't stop to see if his apology had been rejected, which he deserved. But he thought, in between the gaps of his own ragged inhaling, he'd heard heavy breathes imitating his own. And for a moment, he felt a warmth in his heart, spreading outward, telling him everything was going to be alright.

By morning he was gone from his studio apartment, taking everything he couldn't love without, leaving his furniture and his rich boy paintings, a voicemail to his parents saying he guessed he was cut off, but he'd make it on his own, and a text to Kate telling her it was over. It was a dick move, except he didn't trust his safety of he did it in person, and he wasn't going to risk his safety just to be polite to that woman. 

He packed his bags into his Camaro in 4 trips, slid the key to his locked ex-home under the door for his parents to take care of, packed himself in his car and drove to his friends house where Boyd was letting him crash until he cold figure out his next move. 

He never once looked back, and the morning after his first night crashing at Boyd's found him looking at flowers held in an anxious mole-spotted hand, and a future of promise.

\\(O)-(O)/ [(O)-(O)] 

Stiles sighed as he dragged his suitcase behind him. Another year, another conference, and as a PhD student it was (probably) important to get in here and shmooze people, because unfortunately that's what society dictated. All around him uppity professors and fellow PhD candidates ranging from well-dressed to nice-relaxed-casually-cost $100 to nerdy professor bow ties, milled around him. He loved people, what he didn't love was people forced to cohabitation for the good of their images. You could someone's grandma and shoot them point blank and the person in question would fake a smile as try to get on your good side. Okay, maybe not, but the point was it was all fake, and as he made his way to check-in counter, he had to smile back at no less than 12 bleach whitened, sugary smiles. Still, it could be worse, he could belong to the ASA. Those sociologists had some downright scary looking people, who looked like they'd spent the night in the street. Down right barbaric!

He still wanted D, to at least make fun of the people he passed with him. But D had work to focus on and then a meeting sometime today with his creepy uncle who oversaw D's architect firm on account of being the one to loan him the money, so he had to smile at the receptionist and be polite in all the right place, alone.

"Hello, welcome to the Hilton! How may help you?" She chirped.

"Uh, reservation for Stiles Stilinski, please?"

"Just a moment please." Tap, tap, tap went her keyboard. And then she frowned. "Uh, is that 'Styles' with a 'y' or with an 'I'?"

"I"

Tap, tap, tap. Another frown. "I'm sorry sir, there doesn't seem to be a "Stiles" in our system. When did you make your reservation?"

Stiles blinked at her and his eyes widened. "Oh! I'm sorry! I'm so tired from my flight-my reservation would be under my first name" he clumsily pulled out his ID from his wallet where it had hastily been shoved into his laptop bag. "This is the name you're looking for. It's, uh, easier if you just get if off there, it's a mouthful."

"Of course." She returned with a tight, professional you're-wasting-my-time smile. As her faced turned toward the computer he gave her a small shrug and a what-can-you-do expression. "There you are! Room 716. Single, rooftop view, no extra charge." 

"Yes, that's perfect. Thanks." He shot her a small smile. 

Tap, tap, tap. She bent over and pulled some paper. "Alright, I need you to sign these and I'm going to scan your ID, and then you should be all set. There's a gym on floor 9, the pool is on the rooftop, and if you need anything else, the desk is open all night."

"Sounds good, thanks." Stiles took the paperwork and signed it, and then traded her for his ID and room key. With a nod, where he awkwardly waved his acquired pieces of plastic, he backed up and ran into his suitcase, nearly tripping himself as his laptop bag slid painfully down his shoulder. Sighing, he tucked the cards into his shirt pocket and grabbed onto his suitcase, hoisted his back up to a comfortable resting position on his arm and dragged himself away.

Derek was not having a much better morning. He was up at 6 for his daily workout, in the shower by 7:30, dressed by 8 and in the office by 8:45. Because cars had little to no use in New York City, he always took the subway and it always took forever. Kira greeted him at the door, already down to business.

"I've cleared your schedule for everything after 11:30, because Peter moved up your meeting. He verbalized the assumption that if he didn't finagle a meeting with you know, by dinner you'd have found another way out. He said you would finally make the time for him or he would do something....not pretty."

Derek winced and then sighed. He had managed to avoid his uncle for nearly two weeks, since he got back from Paris. At first he claimed jet lag, and then he claimed he had to catch up on work. Now, it seemed there was no more time to make excuses. His was the only parental figure he had left After, and Derek didn't hate the guy, he was just a little....prickly, which resulted in Derek avoided him as much as possible. But he had stepped up and given Derek the loan he needed to open his own company, so the least of what Derek owed him was a little face to face time and updates on his company. Soon, though, Derek will have payed his uncle off and the company would be all his own. Just two years, he could manage approximately two more years.

Kira shot him a sympathetic smile. "He wants to meet at the Hilton, 12 noon, at the bar. You got this, Derek. Just, don't let him wind you up, okay?" 

Derek felt his lips pinch but he nodded. "Alright. Then I've get to work and touch up as many designs as I can before I'm whisked away. I never know when he's going to let me go."

"No, I've cleared your schedule. If he doesn't keep you all day, you're not to come back here. Take the rest of the day for yourself, that's an order." Kira said, scribbling words down in that binder that was eternally in her arms during working hours. 

A surprised laugh escaped Derek. "Ma'am yes ma'am!" He saluted her, and they parted ways as he left her at her desk to go down the hall to his office. For the next 2 1/2 hours he lost himself in his work. 

After a tour of his small hotel room, and a refreshing g nap, Stiles promptly passed out in his hotel bed. He didn't mean to, and he didn't set an alarm, so after a panicking few seconds of not remembering where he was or what day it was, he finally found his way to the clock and exhaled in relief- he had only slept about 3 hours. It was double okay because nothing real important (if anything was important at things things) was happening until tonight. And by important, he meant any interesting lectures he might care about.

Still, Stiles was here to mingle. To get down with history. Talk history to him, yeah baby! Aaaannd, he needed a life. So he shoved on some appropriately nice clothes, went downstairs, and decided to he was not awake enough to deal with this shit. Time to find a Starbucks or something. 

That turned into a 45 minute long exploratory-but successful!-search, in which he almost got lost no less than 3 times. Thank God for modern technology including GPS and iPhones. Still, while he was out he had gotten a text from his friend Heather, a fellow history professor from his school, and he was anxious to get to her and say hi. 

So, naturally, he wasn't looking where he was going. And, just as naturally, he smashed into a brick wall. His first move, upon realizing it was a human, should have been to apologize. But he's Stiles, so he settled his immediate response on a groaning "aw man! There goes my coffee!". It was only when he looked up into the annoyed eyes of the guy he'd run into that he squeaked out "Im sorry", and after the half second it took to take in the fact that he'd just run into the most beautiful human known to man kind, bushy, dark caterpillar eyebrows, beautiful nearly grey eyes, and a scruffy, manly beard, did he look down and startle again. "Oh shit! Your shirt! Bro I am so sorry!" 

Frantically he looked around him, externalizing his internal monologue of "paper towels, paper towels, I need the paper towels, where are the paper towels" distantly registering the man's attempts to get his attention before a hand settled on his shoulder. 

"Kid, stop freaking out, it's fine. I didn't like the color of my shirt anyway."

That stopped Stiles and he turned and looked at the man. The man in question had his eyebrows raised, like he didn't have much patience, but he didn't look angry.

"Okay, okay cool. Well," Stiles bobbed his head, "can I pay for like, dry cleaning or something? Like, send me the bill and I will pay you back? That's a thing, right." 

Derek huffed a laugh at the kid in front of him, wide eyed, a panicking Bambi (S would be so proud of him for the cultural reference). "Yeah, sure kid. Okay." He didn't really have time for this, he had his uncle to placate, he was drenched in coffee, it smelled like hazelnut and he hated hazelnut, and he had a sudden need to talk to S. something about the young man in front of him made him want his friend. It might have been the expression of innocence on his face, the pure absence of any agenda or attitude. Just genuine apology, that was on his face. 

He realized that he and the kid were just staring at each other, so he cleared his throat. "So, uh, how do you want to do this?"

Stiles, who had been lost in the man's eyes, jolted. "Oh right. Uh....exchange numbers maybe? Let me know when I should send you a check or something? Reimburse you the money? Or I could directly pay, of we still happen to be in the same place, I'm not from here-"

"A check would be fine. What's your number?" Eyebrows whipped out his phone and looked up expectantly. 

"Um, here, let me just type it in for you, less chance of getting it wrong." And then Stiles kind of snatched the phone out of the man's hand because he lives his life I quick spastic movements. Whoops.

Satisfied with his umber input, he also entered his name. "My names Stiles btw."

The man raised an eyebrow but just replied "Derek."

Stiles smiled and hand over Derek's phone. "Nice to meet you man. Just, text me now or later when you get the information, but don't forget to include your name so it's not just a random creepy number." 

Derek smirked, amused. But he had to go, he felt ansy every second he kept his uncle waiting. So he looked down at his phone, typed as fast he could, and then looked back up at Stiles. "Will do." BEEP.

"Oh, sweet! That was fast! Thanks dude. You are really pleasant for someone that just got a make over." Stiles grinned and something twisted in Derek's stomach. 

"Accidents happen. I have an important meeting to get to so I-" 

"Oh! Are you here for AHS?"

Derek's eyebrows betrayed his confusion, but he didn't have time to care what 'AHS' was. "No, uh. Meeting with my...business partner."

Stiles nodded his head thoughtfully. "Right, right." 

"It was nice meeting you though." And with a nod, Derek moved away, making sure to put at least a small smile on his face as he walked away. He stomach kind of tingled, and he didn't like it, so he ignored it.

"Nice to meet you too!" Stiles called to his retreating back.

It wasn't until he made it to the bar area that he took a breath, steeling himself for his uncle. Within seconds a strong hand clasped him on the shoulder.

"My boy! How ar-" once his uncle moved in front of Derek and got a good look at him, he raises an eyebrow. "What the hell happened to you?" 

Derek hid as much of his grimace as he could and shrugged. "A small accident, I don't feel like making it a big deal. Sorry I didn't have time to change." 

"Well you're here, and that's what matters. At this point I will take you anyway I can get you. You're a little late though" he said, leading Derek to his chosen spot. 

"I know, sorry. But Kira cleared my schedule for the next few hours so we have time if you don't have anywhere to be for the moment."

Peter slowly let out a wide, toothy, almost predatory grin and Derek's stomach rolled in a bad way this time.

"Good, good. That's good."

-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-

After Stiles had that run in with Derek, he didn't have time to go get more coffee, so thank God he'd gotten a few precious sips. Instead, he went to find Heather so they could talk history-Heather specialized on the history of Hollywood and its influence on viewpoints of Native Americans. It actually interested Stiles, a giant film buff himself, and he couldn't look at any kind of western film the same again, even when there was modern civilization like Brokeback Mountain or A Walk in the Woods. So, when 3 1/2 hours passed and it was almost 5, Stiles was shocked that it was already time to excuse herself to get ready for her lecture panel. 

He still had an hour to go before any panel that looked remotely interesting to him so he decided to go up to his room and wait it out. Maybe D would be done with his meeting. He missed him something fierce, although a certain set of grey-green eyes were stuck on pause in his mind.

No sooner had he collapsed with a groan on his bed, to stare blankly up at the ceiling, before a chuckle nearly startled him. Because, hey, no longer how long they've been at it sometimes Stiles still got a little startled at sudden, expected noise in a quiet, empty room. It was normal, okay?

Stiles' next exhale was one of relief. "I was hoping I'd get to talk to you today. I miss you." Tears pricked his eyes, and he didn't know why. His emotions just felt out of balance.

"Well it's been a hell of a day. I missed you too." Came the earnest, quiet reply. Sometimes for D feelings were harder to admit than at other times. Stiles didn't mind, he loved the quirk. He loved all of D's quirks. Stupid grey eyes had nothing on his quirks. 

Stiles made a frustrated groan and closed his eyes for a second, fisting his hair. He sat up and made sure to leave his back to the mirror in room so he wouldn't accidentally look into it.

Derek gave him a second, swirling a tiny straw around his drink as he sat back and relaxed against his chair. he held his phone to his ear with his other hand, and kind of rested it on as much of the chair as his elbow could reach so his arm wouldn't get tired. S seemed to mirror his current mood. His uncle had left 10 minutes ago and Derek's first move had been to get a drink. 

"Everything okay?" He ventured.

S opened his eyes and Derek could see again. Now he was looking at a wall. "Yeah, I found Heather and we talked for a while. Besides that, there's just a whole lot of boring, stuffy people here."

Derek chuckled, "it's a bunch of historians. I wouldn't exactly expect anything interesting to happen."

He heard S blow out a loud breath. "Well you'd be right." A pause, their silences comfortable, not awkward. They could probably sit there quietly for hours if they knew the other was on the line with them-if Stiles was tired enough and had run out of things to say. It happened, rarely. "How you holding up?" He asked in a small voice.

"Better now that you're with me again." Derek answered truthfully.

"Same, babe. Same. An I have entire hour to kill, if you're willing to spend it with me."

A smile chiseled itself onto Derek's face. "I couldn't think of anything better."

So they spent nearly an hour just taking back and forth, S about the most random things and Derek just trying to keep up, as per usual. But finally, the scotch in Derek's glass was gone, he could tell his ice had almost completely melted, and he figured he was getting looks by now.

"Babe I have to go. I don't think it's gonna look good if I sit here any longer. I'm kinda still in the bar and I kinda haven't gotten a new drink in about 45 minutes."

"Okay, fiiiine." S pouted. "I guess going down early wont kill me."

Derek chuckled. "That's the spirit! Will you be free tomorrow?" It wasn't that he was scared the answer would be no for rejection reasons, the weight in his chest stemmed from the fact that no matter how logical the reasoning, Derek didn't think he could last going a single day without S in his life anymore. Long gone were the days of quick checks in amid their radio silence.

"For you, I'm always free."

Derek felt his blush. He wondered what kind of looks he might be getting. His phone-free hand subconsciously went to finger his pants pocket. "Great. See what you see later!"

"See what you see later."

And the connection was cut. Derek was back to looking at his pathetically empty sans-scotch glass as it sat abandoned on the table. He lowered the phone from his ear and pretended to end the call before he sat his phone on his lap and left his hand there like a dead weight. The last little bit of ice was struggling for life and Derek gave in to watch as it died, before heaving himself up and walking over to the reception desk. He had already paid his tab long ago and he was ready to go home. 

He tried to be polite to the receptionist as he asked her to call a cab, but his nerves were shot and a smile was just not going to happen. He was thankful she was professional enough not to question the stain on his shirt. To his credit he did manage a 'thank you' as she told him he could sit in a chair while he waited. He decided to do just that and lowered himself down quietly, but groaning with pleasure on the inside and the plush quality.

And then he people watched, because after all these years of course S had rubbed off on him. He saw a mother trying to corral her children into being as respectful as a five star hotel deserved, and they were young, so she wasn't having too much luck. He watched a couple stuffy middle aged business men obviously engaged in a business chat, heads held high, glaring a little at the mother of three. He saw a lot of casual-nice, to down right casual people milling about. Now that his tired brain could think about it, there were a lot of people around, not all of the, quite meeting the standards of impeccably dressed. This must be the thing that kid was talking about earlier. 

As always when you speak of the Devil, he will appear, and as Derek turned his head his breath hitched because there on the stairs was the boy from earlier. With some kind of music name. Stale? Style? Stiles. The butterflies were back in his stomach, and Derek hated them so he looked away, he wanted nothing more to do with him than the damn dry cleaning bill. So he focused on a father with his young son, watched as the man affectionately pulled his boy's cap lower on his head as they both started laughing-

And he was interrupted by the sound of a crash. He heard the sound of cursing, but in his head. 

"Are you okay?" He said on instinct, hardly thinking about the fact that he was talking to S again. It was just as natural as S was clumsy. 

"Yeah, I'm okay. I just took a bit of a fall. I uh...couldn't see where I was going all of a sudden."

"Shit." Derek closed his eyes and rubbed his hand over his face, not caring that it was rough. "I'm sorry. I'm so tired I didn't realize I had opened the connection. Shit."

S chuckled but it sounded a little pained. "No worries, dude. This but a flesh wound!"

Derek wanted to laugh, he did, but he chewed on his lip instead. Without thought, he turned his head back towards the kid from earlier, and his half-mad-with-worry mind registered that looked like he had just fallen, too. 

He heard a large gasp and jumped.

"What? What is it?" Stiles heard D, full of panic. Stiles had been slowly picking himself up, using the banister for help, praying that he wasn't calling attention to himself, ready to just chill on the staircase until he could see again. 

But he could see. And what he sad stunned him in silence. Had him carefully taking a step down and then going up two steps just as carefully. He nearly waved his arms to check, but again, he didn't want to draw attention to himself by looking like a spastic octopus. 

He could feel D's distress grow the longer he remained silent. "WHAT'S WRONG ARE YOU OKAY?" reverberated at an uncomfortable decibel in his ear.

Derek was only half watching that Stiles kid dancing around on the staircase, to busy scared for his soulmates impending death to care what Stiles was going. He looked away from him again, frustrated, but before he could focus on the spot the kid in the cap and his dad had vacated, he heard S command him "No, look back at the stairs. Look back at the stairs!"

Unable to deny S anything, he reluctantly looked back at the kid from this morning and then his entire body-heart, lungs, mind, emotions-shut down because-

"I CAN SEE MYSELF!"

S was oblivious to his panic, how his mind just couldn't quite process the fact that he was looking at the kid from this mor-he was in the same room as-S was seeing his-his soulmate was-

"D, I can see myself! How can I see myself! D! You're at a hotel. A Hilton?" 

Reboot. Brain, reboo-"Yes" oh god, just the one word, so much pain and hope, dragged out of him. He needed to be sure, or his world was going to crash around him, and he didn't know if he could- "wave your hand. For the love of God, raise your hand and wave it around." It said it quietly, quiet enough that no one could overhear and no mistakes could be made.

Desperation. Such desperation that Stiles didn't even question it. If D needed him to wave around like an idiot, then by God, he was going to wave around like an idiot, with pride.

Tears. Derek nearly lost his vision to tears. The boy on the staircase, the boy from this morning, that beautiful doe-eyed boy who'd spilled his coffee on Derek....was his. He was HIS.

"Stiles, break the connection." He was already striding forward, ignoring everyone around him. They didn't matter. They were nothing. Their attention meant nothing. They're scorn meant nothing. They met nothing. This boy, Stiles, meant everything. 

"Wha-how do you know my-"

"Stiles, god dammit, break the connection."

He felt the moment Stiles left his head, but he also saw it on the boys face. There was no doubt he knew why Derek was striding towards him.

Stiles didn't even have to focus his eyes, the moment the connection broke, his eyes immediately landed on the man from earlier, striding towards him, and he knew, and he understood why he couldn't get those eyes out of his head. 

"Derek" was the only word he could breathe out.

So he did what any man meeting their soulmate would do, he ran to him. And then promptly jumped into his arms. And because Derek was his soulmate, because he was so in sync with Stiles and Stiles would claim that until his dying day, he knew that Stiles was going to jump and he sure as hell would be there to catch him. And if they did a celebratory spin, fuck what anybody else thought. And the tears in Stiles' eyes as Derek sat him down and pulled their foreheads together were manly, hopefully, happy tears.

"It's you" was all he could gasp out before Derek was kissing him, crushing Stiles to his body with one arm, the other tenderly securing his head to Derek's. even after they stopped kissing they didn't put space between them.

"I guess you were right. About waiting to be brought together."

Stiles really couldn't think so he just laughed. "Was it worth it? The wait?" He couldn't help that a bit of anxiety flooded his voice, even after the display of affection. What if he wasn't what Derek wanted? What if he screwed it up already? What if-

"Yes," the vulnerability and longing were palpable in Derek's voice, making him sound hoarse. "Yes, it was worth it. Of course it was worth it. I can't regret a single thing because now I have you. I finally have you. Right where I want you."

Stiles sniffled and closed his eyes. "I'm just kind of mad I didn't recognize your voice sooner." He tried to chuckle as he pulled away and attempted to subtly swipe his eyes.

Derek looked at him with fond exasperation. "It's not like I recognized yours either. Besides we didn't exactly lose any time."

Stiles smiled. "That's true but it almost didn't happen. Thank god you were sitting in that seat and that you were tired because what if you weren't-"

"But I was and even if I hadn't been we have each others numbers. The world was about to throw us together, and judging by how perfectly everything lined up, it chose now to do so. Stop worrying, you're ruining our afterglow." Derek chuckled and, God help him, he reclaimed the space between them to nuzzle his nose to Stiles.

Stiles let out a breathe and chuckled, too. "I love you, Derek. I know I made us wait until we met in person to say it, but I love you, Derek. I do."

And then he thinks he kind of broke Derek because Derek just kind of froze, staring into his eyes, not even blinking. And now just for a second, not just two seconds, but a handful of increasingly nerve-wracking seconds where he refused to reanimate. 

"Um, Derek? You ...okay....there?" Stiles cleared his throat because his voice had started to grow smaller.

"I love you too" Derek said desperately, coming back online in a giant woosh if breath, eyes twinkling with hope.

And then he did something Stiles did not expect. He got down on one knee. Right there, not five minutes after they officially met. Okay, so Stiles should be freaked out, but he'd known Derek his entire life, so he really hoped this is what he thought it was and Derek didn't just need to tie his shoe.

Derek pulled the box from his pocket of his less bent right leg, where it had made its home for the last year or so. He carried it everywhere with him, and now, hopefully, it would finally find a new home.

"Stiles, I know. I'm down on my knee and we just met in person, but we didn't just meet. I know you. I know the food you hate, I know that you sneak in zucchini when you make chocolate cake for your dad, I know that you're messy and loud, and your research space tends to be chaotic to everyone but you, and to you it's just like digging through a well-organized filing cabinet. I know your quirks, and I've lived through your emotional spirals. And it's the same for me. I know you and you know me and we've been dating for two years because when have we ever done anything conventionally? And I'm kneeling here in the middle of a hotel lobby because all I could think about was that I finally have you and I can't wait to make you mine. And normally I put a lot more thought into things but you make me spontaneous. You make my life better. I was ready to marry you two weeks ago in Paris and I probably would have married you two years ago when we started dating. I need you in my life. I can't live without you, and I know you feel the same. We have lived life through each others eyes and I don't ever want to stop. Please, marry me." 

Derek stared desperately into Stiles' eyes, praying that if he was moving too fast, he'd get the chance to propose again. And again. And again until Stiles would have him. But he needn't have worried. 

Stiles couldn't speak, and the tears were definitely back, so he just nodded his head violently, trying not to sob. 

Derek shot up like a rocket and clung to him, burying his face in Stiles' neck. "Finally" he whispered into it, burrowed in safety. Dimly they registered good natured cheering around them, a few cat calls, but for the most part they were bundled up in each other and always always, the outside would didn't tend to exist. 

When they finally pulled away from their embrace, Derek took Stiles' left hand and slid the solid silver ring on his finger, before bringing it up and kissing it, his smile soft, his eyes misting.

And then he was tense, because this was reality, and Stiles was here on business. 

Stiles saw Derek tense up knew he didn't want to say goodbye. Stiles, frankly, didn't want to either. He was newly engaged, newly united with the love of his life. Did Derek seriously think Stiles was going to forego him for a bunch of boring, meaningless, time-wasting lectures? HA. No.

So he smiled at Derek as seductively as he could. "Lets get out of here."

Derek had the audacity to look surprised. Poor thing. 

"But, your conference thing. What about your conference thing."

Stiles made a face and stared his wide eyes directly into Derek's. "you don't know me at all if you honestly think I'd rather be here than with my fiancée, or even here with my fiancé because one of us does know the other and I have no doubt you're not leaving me. We could do anything. The night is," Stiles looked outside, where twilight was beginning to set in. "The night is not exactly young but I bet there's a good diner around here somewhere. Then we could go back to my room and-" Stiles inserted the famous Stilinski eyebrow waggle.

Derek wanted to lean in and kiss Stiles, so he did. Because he could do that now, and he wasn't going to deny himself another second. "Or, I love in New York. We could go back to my place and-"

"Done! Sold! Lets just go get my things, okay?" He squeaked out.

Derek chuckled. "Let's go." He said, sliding his arms down Stiles' to attach a hand to his, and a playful nudge with his head to Stiles' for good measure.

"Uh, sir. Sir." Called a voice.

Derek, slightly exasperated, turned around and was surprised to find the woman from the front desk from earlier. He had forgotten all about her.

"Yes?"

"Uh, do you still want your taxi? Because its waiting outside..." She looked unsure, and her wide eyes looked between the two men.

"Perfect!" Stiles said in answer, saving Derek. Tell him we will be right down. Or better yet, Derek you stay down here with the cab and I will run up and get my bags. I'll be quick, promise!"

Derek wasn't thrilled, but he said okay, and then thank you to the lobby clerk, before making his way to the cab to wait for Stiles.

Stiles, for his part, walked as fast as he could to the elevator, and booked it one he got to his floor. He had to try three times before he got his key to work, and once inside praised the fact that all he had to do were re-pack the clothes he had changed out of after his shower earlier that day. Nothing a little stuffing couldn't cure. 

He was tempted to take the stairs, because waiting for the elevator to get back to him seemed to take forever, but he figured that since he had luggage he'd no doubt fall in his rush to get to Derek which, not helpful. So he jammed the "door close" button when the elevator finally opened, and he prayed no one else would need the elevator, and then he was free to charge his way to Derek, who was waiting by the cab, stalling an irritated cabbie.

"Here I am!" Stiles announced. "Don't worry, I don't need the trunk."

Derek, who had grinned when he saw Stiles arrive, simply scooted into the cab, dodging the luggage Stiles sent flying his way. 

"Where to?" Said the cabbie, not exactly friendly. Sorry, dude.

Stiles looked at Derek who told the cabbie his address then turned to Stiles. "I know you wanted to eat but this way we don't have to deal with luggage."

"Yeah. Of course." Stiles grinned. He nearly giggled but that was a secret he'd take to his grave. "Do you have any favorite take out places?"

"Um, I know a good one or two that'll do. Why?"

"Eh." Stiles shrugged, feigning nonchalance. "I was just thinking that once we got to your apartment I don't really want to leave, that's all."

Derek seemed to choke. "I can do that. Sure. No problem." He rasped out. 

Stiles sighed happily and resisted his head on his fiancé's shoulder. "Good."

They were quiet as they drove on, the cabbie thankfully not friendly enough to try and make conversation.

"Oh! What about checkout? I don't think you-"

"Oh! Crap!" He looked startled for a moment, but Derek could tell he didnt really care. "I will just go back tomorrow, take care of in then. I'd have to pay for tonight anyway. I'm booked for the next three days, and I don't even know if money is refundable."

And if Stiles snuggled into his beloved a little? Well, the cabbie's eyes were on the road and dammit, this was his soulmate.

He did not, in fact, make it back in time for check out the next day.

**Author's Note:**

> Because I'm the idiot who got to 11,363 words while still thinking I'd be lucky if I made it to 4,000.
> 
> I give you, the longest story I have ever, with my limited oatience and hatred of dialogue, written. And I took writing classes in college. I hope you enjoyed.
> 
> Also note: the title is a reference to stage directions in a script for entrance of a character. I thought it was fitting.


End file.
